Their Hearts Don't Beat Like Ours
by DisenchantedDestroya
Summary: Sastiel high school AU. In which Sam is the bullied geek, Castiel is the new home-schooled student and Dean is Dean. One-shot.


Sam Winchester used to adore school. It was a place where he could get away from the fact that his mother was gone, that his father blatantly preferred his older brother and that his father might as well not be his father for all the time he spends away on business. He used to love being the 'brainy' one and being settled firmly in every single teacher's favour, even the teachers who never even taught him themselves.

But then everything went wrong.

His big brother, Dean, outgrew school and went on to work at a local garage. Sam experienced a growth spurt that made his legs too long and his stomach too skinny. And his fellow classmates decided that kids like Sam Winchester should get beaten up, or at the very least teased, at every possible moment.

Thus leading to this point in time.

Sam is sat in his usual place on a Monday morning at around nine o'clock-ish; the back of his homeroom class, both seats either side of him empty. It used to make him feel lonely, isolated even, but now it just makes him feel _safe._

Sam learnt a long time ago that it's better to be away from the people who want to hurt you than to be a fist-throw away. It's only logical, really.

The rest of his class are divided into their own little cliques, each gaggle of chatty teens squawking on about who did what (or who) over the weekend. The youngest Winchester boy used to physically ache to join them but now he's learnt to listen in, to know every little thing going on with the mindless zombies who inhabit his high school.

His attention is taken away from his recon work by the sudden appearance of his homeroom teacher, a balding man in his late thirties who seems to think it's cool to talk loudly about all the MTV programs he _pretends_ to watch, followed by a boy Sam hasn't seen before.

Maybe not a boy, Sam thinks, an _angel._

In that moment everything ceases to have a proper, tangible meaning; everything falling apart until the only thing left is this boy. Sam's not even all that sure what makes him so good-looking, just that it has something to do with his blue eyes, scruffy hair and flowing trench coat. All in all, it leaves Sam gawking in an all-too-obvious way.

Ocean-like eyes flicker to him and he feels his cheeks _ignite_, only to be cooled by the soft, unsure smile that the new boy throws him. For the first time in a long time, Sam feels himself smile in school.

"Good morning class!"

Sam wants to tell the rest of the kids in the room to shut up, to give Mr Michaels a goddamned chance for once, but he bites his tongue. After all, his tormentors are bad enough when they _don't _have a reason to beat him up. Instead he decides to allow his eyes to wonder back to the newbie and his breathing all but stops; those blue eyes are still fixated on him, watching intently.

Of course Sam is way too logical to believe in something as stupid as 'love-at-first-sight' but this angel of a boy is quickly changing his opinion. He mentally amends his ideas on love and alters it to allow the belief of 'attraction-at-first-sight'. Yes, that sounds perfectly reasonable.

Mr Michaels clears his throat and stamps his foot like a toddler being ignored by its parents. Finally, the class deem him worthy of their attention.

"Right, yes, good morning." He smiles as though expecting his class of hyenas to have turned into puppies overnight. After getting no response he turns to the new boy who, in return, completely blanks him; just keeps on staring right at Sam, then at the empty seat to Sam's left. "We've a new student today, fresh from being home-schooled."

Sam's sure that if this boy wasn't so good-looking then there'd be a fair few sniggers at that. Instead all the girls look simply fascinated and all the boys look at least mildly impressed. Sam mentally berates himself for thinking he ever even stood a chance here.

"Everyone, this is Castiel." The man beams as the exotic name sends ripples of interest throughout the room. "Anything you'd like to say, Castiel?"

The boy, Castiel, stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around the room. He just demands attention and he appears to have it from everyone in the class. Most definitely including Sam.

Suddenly, making the majority of the class gasp, he yanks a hand out of his pockets and uses it to point at the empty desk next to Sam.

"I want to sit there." Castiel commands, voice surprisingly deep for such an angel-faced boy. "Next to the boy with sad eyes."

Without waiting for a response Castiel stomps down the aisles of prying eyes until he gets to the desk next to Sam, flopping down into the seat restlessly.

Everyone is shocked but none more so than Sam himself. Nobody's ever wanted to sit next to him before, much less someone like Castiel; someone so perfect that Sam isn't sure if he should even exist. He allows himself to be happy about it for all of a split second before his mind starts analysing it.

_It must be a trick, _Sam thinks, _he'll just wind up hating/hitting me too._

Noting Sam's blatant anxiety and mistrust Castiel gives him a reassuring smile, his aura going from intimidating to gentle in all of two seconds. Sam does his best to smile back but he's sure he just looks even more stupid.

"Right, well." Mr Michaels mutters, as unsure as everyone else is of this small exchange. "Welcome to the zoo, Castiel."

* * *

Sam grunts as he hits the ground, his rucksack being yanked off his back and his, all of a sudden, extremely heavy books being emptied out all over his already bruised body.

He refuses to make any noise though; he won't give them the satisfaction.

A foot rams forcefully into his side, knocking his breath out of him and bringing tears of pure agony into his eyes, burning at the surface of his irises. He won't cry, though. Dean told him that if he did then the bullies would win and Dean has never, not in Sam's sixteen years of existence, lied to him.

Too numb from too much pain to react, a set of hands hauls him upright and slams him back into a row of lockers. Everything screams at Sam to fight back, to retaliate, but he's learnt from experience that trying to even out the 'fight' will only make it worse for him, no matter how many times Dean has tried to teach him how to throw a decent punch.

Dean. Dean sounds good right about now. He wouldn't let this happen to his Sammy. Not ever.

That thought is knocked out of his head as a fist connects with it, just below the eye. Sam can't stop himself from crying out. The trio of boys, all members of the football team, laugh and hit harder.

Everything on the outside of Sam _burns _with pain and aches with the itch to punch back; everything on the inside just feels dead. Like he wants to give up, to run home crying to his big brother to make it all better for him. He honestly would if he thought his current state would permit him being able to run the two miles home.

"So, Sammy, time for me to ask." The leader, a boy named Lyle, drawls, smirking and Sam knows exactly what's about to happen and exactly how he is going to respond. "Will you do our homework?"

"No." Sam gasps, as does Lyle and his gang. "Sam will not be doing any work of yours."

All eyes turn to the source of the deep, gravelly voice and Sam thinks he might cry at his new found object of affection seeing him like this but he's just too exhausted to really care right now. The boys let go of him and he slides down the lockers to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest in a protective stance.

"You're the new kid. Castiel, right?" Lyle's smiling as though talking to an innocent child who doesn't understand the concept of war. "That's just Sam Winchester. He doesn't mind it. Just needs a little encouragement when it comes to helping out his buddies, don't ya, Sammy?"

Castiel's gaze skates down to the trembling, bruised mass of teenager huddled against the lockers and his stoic manner gives way to something far more sinister; his face drains of all colour and his mouth sets itself to a snarl.

If Sam didn't know any better he'd think that Lyle was scared.

"You leave Sam Winchester alone." The somewhat short yet omnipotent boy growls, eyes full of rampant warning. "He is my _friend._"

The warning seems to register because Lyle nods then turns to walk away, his friends traipsing behind him like lost sheep.

"Whatever, man. We're done with him for today anyways."

As soon as they're around the corner Castiel is crouching next to Sam, mind brimming over with worry but completely unsure how to handle the situation. He's not the best in the world when it comes to dealing with people and the last thing he wants to do right now is make this any worse. After all, Sam has been nothing but nice to him today; showing him around and explaining other students to him.

"Sam?" He tries, reaching out a cautious hand to rest softly on the boy's shoulder. "They're gone now."

Sniffling, Sam uncurls from himself and looks around before settling his eyes on the reassuring image of Castiel's face, focusing on it through his blurry vision until he's sure that it's real and that he hasn't just passed out.

"Sam?" Castiel says, his hand carefully rubbing the shoulder, doing his best to be comforting. "Are you okay?"

For Sam's part, he can't quite believe it. The new student, who just so happens to be Sam's sortofnewcrush, has just rescued him from the bullies and, instead of beating him up too, is apparently trying to look after him.

It just seems all too good to be true.

So Sam gets shakily to his feet, alternating between the lockers and Castiel for support, readying himself for his saviour to turn on him at any moment. But instead he's just met with that same reassuring gaze, the one that makes him feel at least a little bit less alone; almost like he's got a friend.

Maybe he does. Castiel _did_ call him his friend, didn't he?

"Did you mean it?"

The shorter boy blinks owlishly, trying to comprehend the question. He can't think of anything he said that would require questioning so he tilts his head to the side, indicating the need of an explanation.

"What you said." Sam continues, the disbelieving shake in his voice making Castiel feel inexplicably sad. "About me being your friend. Did you mean it?"

"Of course."

And that makes all of the pain go away, even if only momentarily because, for the first time since his brother left school, Sam Winchester has a _friend._

* * *

"Dammit, Sammy. _Again?"_

Sam sighs, bracing himself for Dean going into full-on Mother Hen mode. He always does when he comes home from work to find his baby brother with a bruised face or a limp or, in most cases, both.

For all his efforts to appear tough and rugged, Dean can't half worry when it comes to Sammy. He's been known to offer hugs on occasion, especially when his brother's in a state such as this. Hell, he's even gone as far as to induce a chick-flick moment on those days when Sammy's really been down.

But this time is different. Yeah, Sam's sat on the couch with an ice-pack to his chest and sporting a black eye but he doesn't look all that sad. In fact, Dean thinks he might even be _smiling._

Confused, Dean settles himself down next to his brother and gets to scanning the injuries. They're not the worst he's seen his brother sport but they're far from pleasant for Dean to behold. It makes his blood boil and swamp his head with its red steam; he's angry, hell, he's _furious. _

"Heya, Dean." He sighs, seeing his brother looking torn between punching something and crying. He hates that he does this to Dean. "I'm fine. Really, I am."

"Whatever you say, bitch."

"Jerk."

The two smile at each other, grateful for the sense of comforting normality at the exchange. Of course Dean calls his brother a bitch but it's only alright for _him_ to do so, nobody else whatsoever. And it's the same from Sam's perspective. He might call his brother a jerk but he'd never just stand by if someone else did the same.

Words really only mean as much as what the person speaking them puts behind them and in this case they mean love, home. They mean 'I'm right here, brother'.

"You okay?"

Sam nods, wincing as Dean's fingertips brush against a bruise on his face. The older Winchester immediately pulls back, forcing his face to be blank so as to hide the sorrow building behind his eyes. He never wants to see Sammy hurt and the only thing worse than that is knowing that he can't protect him.

And that _kills_.

"How was work?" Sam asks, voice tired and quiet. "Anything interesting happen?"

Noticing his brother's exhaustion he pulls him against his shoulder, letting Sammy rest his head there and stretch his legs out on the couch; he knows his baby brother finds it easier to relax when they're close and, by the looks of it, relaxation is precisely what Sam needs right now.

"Nah. Same old same old." In reality Dean could go on for hours about how his boss thinks another worker is stealing from the tills and how this really hot chick gave him her number today but he has more important things to say right now. Such as asking about what the hell happened this time. "How about school?"

"It was alright, actually." Dean's eyebrow's shoot up, wondering what kind of twisted definition of 'alright' his baby brother has developed, and Sam breathes out a snort of laughter, offering his brother a slight smirk. "Aside from the beating, obviously."

That makes Dean wince; his brother doesn't sound like his _baby brother_ anymore. He sounds cynical, like all of that childish innocence and joy he used to possess has literally been beaten out of him.

And that makes Dean's heart _break_.

"There was a new student. Home-schooled." Sam smiles, genuinely smiles, and the older Winchester just _has_ to smile back. "He's called Castiel. We're friends."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He nods, beaming with pride at the idea that Castiel, or Cas as the boy said he'd like to be called, chose _him_ over everyone else. "He even made the bullies leave me alone, Dean." Sam blushes and the glint in Dean's eyes tells him that his big brother already knows. "I think… I think I really like him."

Behind the proud, brotherly smile only one thing is going through Dean's head; _this fucker better not hurt my Sammy._

* * *

For over a week the beatings cease to happen, Castiel's presence enough to ward away the bullies like a lucky charm. Sam doesn't really understand it but for once he's happy to not understand. Cas likes him and, whilst neither of them are overly talkative, they get along perfectly.

They are no longer friends. They are _best friends. _

Last Wednesday when Ricky, one of Lyle's friends, tackled Sam too roughly in PE, it was Cas who helped him to the nurse's room despite his protests. On Friday when Cas didn't fully understand their English assignment, it was Sam who helped him out. It was Cas who gave Sam his salad in exchange for Sam's cafeteria burger.

Everything just _worked._

That is until twenty minutes ago, when their English teacher caught Castiel copying from Sam's work and decided to hold him back for a detention. Thus leaving Sam open for attack. And, _damn, _are they making up for lost time.

Sam's curled on the floor, writhing in pain and too frightened to care that his nose is gushing blood. Kicks are raining down on him like lightening, coming from every direction and hitting anything they can find, be it head, chest or leg his attackers don't seem to care. He's beyond the point of caring and so his tears aren't being held back; it all just hurts _too much_.

Unconsciousness finally starts to blur his vision and Sam's final though before darkness claims him isn't of how much he wants Dean to be here. It's of how much he _needs_ Castiel.

* * *

When Castiel finally gets out of his detention, his nerves are in tatters.

He knows that without him there Sam will be a sitting duck and the bullies won't be holding back, will be out for 'revenge'. Cas is socially-inept; not stupid.

He's currently sprinting down the hallways, scanning every face and corner, searching for _his_ Sam. The too-sweet, too-smart boy that needs someone to take care of him, no matter how much he might like to deny it. And Castiel wants to be that person.

Why? Because Sam is different from the other kids here. He doesn't judge. He doesn't hate. He doesn't lust for popularity. He just wants a friend, for people to not hurt him, to make his family proud. Sam is good, despite what the others might think, and Castiel wants to protect that with everything he has.

Apart from now he can't find Sam and, for the first time ever, Castiel knows what it is to truly be afraid.

He picks up the pace, pushing past all the startled faces, only caring about Sam and whether or not he is okay. He's running and running and searching and searching and his heart feels like it's about to implode in worry, in love, in everything that he never _really _felt all that much before he met Sam Winchester.

And then he hears it; the sound of crying.

And then he hears it; the sound of laughing.

Both of which are coming from behind a classroom door.

Without hesitation Castiel pulls it open so hard that it nearly falls off its hinges, revealing a sight that makes him feel like he wants to give up on the idea of human decency but that would mean giving up on Sam, so he doesn't; he can't ever give up on him.

There in the middle of the darkened room is a group of about six jocks, kicking at Sam with such harsh intensity that it makes Castiel wonder how Sam isn't dead yet. He quickly brushes that thought away though, hating himself for ever thinking such a thing.

"Do you know why I was home-schooled?"

The kicking stops and the group turn to face Cas, his trench coat and stoic eyes giving him a sinister quality. This, of course, isn't helped by the fact that he's cracking his knuckles. He just prays that it isn't scaring Sam. Sam who he can see is now covered in bloody bruises and is drifting dangerously close to unconsciousness. Castiel keeps his eyes away from that sight though; he knows he has to be intimidating here for this to work.

"I used to go to a normal school and _bullies_ like you used to fuck with me." He smirks, eyes sparkling dangerously. "Until one of them wound up in a wheelchair." He rolls up the sleeves of his coat and hopes with every fibre of his being that he looks threatening. "I'd do the same now, y'know. Because if there's one thing I hate, it's _bullies_."

"You're bluffing."

Cas walks up to he who dared question him; a boy at least a head taller than him but with eyes portraying cowardice. He locks stares with him and smiles all too sweetly.

"Do you want to find out?" The shake of a head. "Then leave. Now. All of you."

They're all out before he can finish the sentence and Cas would take a moment to be proud if more pressing matters weren't on hand right now. Namely, the bloody mess on the floor in front of him.

He drops to his knees and reaches out to place a comforting hand somewhere on Sam but he can't; everything looks too _damaged_ to be touched right now. Sam's wheezing, like he can't breathe right, and his unconscious face is a mask of unbridled fear and agony.

"Oh _god, _Sam, I'm so sorry."

* * *

"Hey there, Sammy."

Everything's white and way too bright.

"Easy, bro. Just breathe through it."

Sam follows his brother's sage advice and everything starts to become a lot clearer, memories flooding back like blood out of a wound; the beating, Castiel, the sound of sirens.

_Oh_.

He's in hospital, in a bed with bandages everywhere and everything either hurting or numb. One thing that isn't either though is his left hand. That just feels pleasantly warm. He looks to it and sees why.

Castiel is slumped in a plastic chair, both of his hands clasped around Sam's left one, holding onto it as though he can pull Sam out his own personal hell. For his part, Castiel is out for the count and snoring softly, still cloaked in his precious trench coat. Sam doesn't think he's ever seen his friend without it.

"He's been here since you came in yesterday afternoon." Dean explains, following his brother's gaze, feeling a little put out that Sam's first thought is of Castiel and not of him. "Hadn't slept a wink until twenty minutes ago."

"What?" Sam can remember everything but it's all sewn together in a patchwork sort of way, all muddled and confusing; he needs his big brother to sort it all out for him, just like always. "How?"

"Those bastards at that school of yours got you pretty bad, bro." Dean sighs, his smile full of sadness as he takes Sam's free hand and gives it a squeeze. "Cas found you and called an ambulance." He looks his brother's friend up and down, silently analysing him as though a wild animal never before seen by human eyes. "He's nice."

"Yeah." Sam, despite everything, smiles. "He really is."

* * *

Dean's boss is an asshat.

That's why Sam is in his hospital bed with only one visitor, not that he minds. He doesn't mind because Castiel is that visitor and, although he's still asleep, just having him here holding his hand is more than enough comfort to make Sam feel comfortable, to make Sam feel safe.

Dean wanted to wake Cas up before he left so that someone would be there to look after his _baby _brother but Sam had forbid it, claiming that his guardian angel deserved the rest. So Dean had left it, too busy worrying about Sammy to argue with him.

Sam's eyes roam the room before settling on the window. It's raining outside, the clouds spitting out thin drizzles of rain as though disgusted with the world below. He's always liked looking at rain, somehow it manages to calm him down. Unless, of course he's stuck outside in it. He isn't though; he's in a nice warm room with Castiel clinging to his hand. So he enjoys it.

"Sam?"

At the groggy, sleep-fogged call the addressed snaps his head around to see that his hero is awake, blue eyes wide and fixated on him.

_Damn_. Those eyes.

"C-cas." Sam stutters, mouth suddenly so very dry. "Hey."

"Hey." Castiel smirks. He doesn't let go of Sam's hand. "You're not okay."

Sam looks down at himself, frowning in shame at the shape he's let himself get into. He's _sixteen_, he should be able to defend himself. He knows his brother would've been able to at his age. Then again though, Dean always has been the better of the two, their dad's favourite son. Yet no matter how much Sam tries to be Dean he always seems to fail. It doesn't stop him from loving his brother though. Not _ever._

Cas squeezes Sam's hand, his insides melting at the helpless look in his friend's eyes. _His_ Sam shouldn't look like this, shouldn't be beaten into hospital, shouldn't feel ashamed; not _ever._

"No, Sam." He helps the youngest Winchester boy into a sitting position, still keeping one hand gripping Sam's. Sam seems to like it so there's no way in hell that he's about to let go. "I mean on the inside." Cas gnaws on his lower lip, trying to think of a good way to word his thoughts. "Emotionally you're not okay."

"I'm _fine_." It's headstrong and sharp and Sam hates himself for sounding like that with Castiel but it's his natural defence mechanism against accusations of weakness. "I mean, uh, thank you. For helping me."

Castiel just tilts his head to the side, clearly not understanding. Sam thinks it's adorable, not that he'd ever say that out loud. From Castiel's point of you, he thinks that Sam having to thank him for basic human decency is appalling.

"You're welcome." He says, eyes so sad that it makes Sam feel it to. "And you're not okay. Your classmates just put you in hospital." Sam winces at that, unable to deny Cas' words; it does feel like shit to know that you're so _hated_ people want to _hurt_ you. In response, Castiel just holds his hand tighter, face resembling that of a kicked puppy. "It's okay to be sad, Sam. Let me take care of you."

And just like that, Sam lets a tear escape. Then another. And another. And now he's in Castiel's arms, the boy having climbed into the hospital bed and pulling Sam close to his chest. And he's not about to let go, neither of them are.

Cas won't admit it but finding Sam yesterday was the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced. He isn't used to having friends and he thought he was about to lose the best one he's ever had. Now though, now that he knows Sam's not going anywhere any time soon he knows it's his job to make everything alright.

Or, at least, as alright as it can be. He'll have to talk to Dean about this later, he thinks. But right now he has Sam to himself.

"I've got you." He whispers, pressing a kiss into Sam's hair like his mother used to when he fell and hurt his knee at the park. "I'm here."

It's stupid little words that don't really mean anything but to Sam they mean the world. It means that Cas isn't going to leave him, that he's going to keep all of the scary monsters away, no matter what it takes. Even if those scary monsters are just high school kids and his own lack of confidence.

"What'd I do, Cas? Why do they hate me?"

The whimpered questions strike Castiel like an arrow to the heart, almost impairing his ability to answer.

"You were brave." The words are quiet, solid and oh-so-real. Cas gently tilts Sam's chin up, forcing him to look him in the eyes. He just wants his words to make Sam happy. "You didn't conform to what they wanted. You were just you and they were stupid. They felt inadequate because you're better than they are so they tried to take that away from you."

The rain starts to ease up outside and ray of sunlight filters through the thick mesh of grey clouds. The sight makes Cas' lips tilt upwards in an almost-smile.

"They didn't." Castiel presses another kiss into Sam's hair, proudly noting that it makes his friend smile, if only a little bit. "You're still you and that's enough."

A yawn rips out of Sam's mouth and Castiel can't help but chuckle. Sam really is quite cute, as far as beat-up teenage boys go anyway. He feels Sam nestle into his chest and he lets him, adoring the feeling of having someone trust him so fully, need him so wholly.

"Sleep."

"No."

Castiel looks down at the battered boy curled into him, eyebrow raised and awaiting an explanation. The he sees it; the desperate longing in Sam's eyes, the fear and exhaustion, giving him all the answers he needs.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

The shorter boy leans forward, closing the gap between their faces until their noses are touching, their breath mixing in a warm waltz. Their eyes lock and they both understand that this is needed, wanted, _desired._

So Castiel goes for it. Gently, of course, he presses his lips to Sam's split ones, taking in the taste of everything that makes Sam; the blood, the sweat, the faint taste of the last salad he ate. Both boys are lost in it, tasting each other and tasting love. For Sam it's safety and reassurance, for Castiel it's adoration and trust. For both of them it's love and pure perfection.

Finally Castiel pulls away, knowing that his friend (boyfriend?) needs to rest if he's to heal properly. Besides, they'll have all the time in the world to kiss and make out once Sam's out of this place.

"I promise. I'll _always_ be here."

* * *

**A/N: **

This was inspired by 'The World Is Ugly' by My Chemical Romance. I had it playing on a loop as I wrote this. It's something I've been wanting to write for a while but it turned out crappier than expected. I wanted some teenchesters but I also wanted Castiel to be in it, so this happened. I'm not entirely sure how it turned out to this long.

Anywhore, I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :3


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